


Just Another Morning

by Rawrbin



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Aprons, Batfam Kinkmas Exchange, Cock Warming, Dirty Talk, Domestic, Foot Jobs, Humiliation, Large Cock, M/M, Oral Sex, Slut Shaming, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:15:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28069155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rawrbin/pseuds/Rawrbin
Summary: Breakfast at the Wilson household goes a little differently than Dick Grayson expected.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Comments: 13
Kudos: 215
Collections: Batfam Kinkmas Exchange 2020





	Just Another Morning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yellowwarbler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowwarbler/gifts).



> Merry Kinkmas

Dick has never been the type to be embarrassed about nudity. 

He isn't vain, but the fact that he is objectively good looking has never escaped him. Combine that with an innate sense of self confidence and showmanship bred into him as a child of the circus and he's never had an issue 'bearing it all'. 

Just last night he had happily stripped naked and thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of Slade Wilson's gaze roaming over his body as they made love (or whatever you call it, Dick isn't sure if what they have between them can quite be classified in the "love" category.)

So it's a mystery to him now why it's only years of training that keeps him from squirming at the feeling of Slade's eye burning a new hole in his backside. 

Perhaps it's the context of the situation: last night they had both been naked, enthusiastically so, and both actively participating in the acts that required them to be so. Now… Dick's ass is on full display as he cooks breakfast over the stove while Slade, fully dressed, leans back against the opposite counter and _watches._

Not wanting to squeeze back into a thoroughly sweat-soaked Nightwing suit after he woke up this morning he'd opted to pull on one of Slade's far too large t-shirts instead, the thing big enough on him to be a verifiable nightgown for Nightwing. Decency regained he'd snuck downstairs with the intention to cook them both some breakfast. Of course sneaking around in the house of a meta human with super hearing was as difficult a task as it sounds, and it wasn't long until Slade joined him. 

And chastised him. 

Dick was cooking in _his_ shirt, risking getting it dirty? Shame on him. 

Dick had huffed and was about to complain about Slade being ridiculous until he saw what his lover pulled out for him to wear instead. That had stopped everything in its tracks as he stared at the item in disbelief. But the next moment Slade was coaxing him out of the t-shirt and into the other garment and that is how Dick has ended up in this situation: Cooking eggs for Slade Wilson wearing nothing but a frilly pink apron. 

It's tied in an elegant ribbon in the back, perfect bow resting just above the cleft of his ass. Everything else is left uncovered, his round cheeks on full display for his lover's viewing pleasure. 

Dick convinces himself that the heat on his cheeks is just from the fire of the stove in front of him. 

He doesn't _have_ to do this, he reminds himself. Doesn't _have_ to wear the apron, doesn't _have_ to cook for Slade, doesn't _have_ to let himself be ogled while he does it. But he _is_ doing it anyways because… well, he doesn't want to think too hard about the reason. 

Doesn't want to think too hard about why his cock is starting to tent the apron in the front when Slade isn't even doing _anything,_ just standing behind him silently and _watching_. 

"Eggs are ready," he says through a dry throat when the things are blessedly cooked and Dick doesn't have to withstand the torment anymore. The toast in the toaster pops up at the same moment and the coffee machine beeps to alert them that its heavenly brew has finished. Dick can't help but to give a little smirk. He wouldn't make a half-bad house wife. 

He ducks his head so Slade won't see the blush that hits his face a moment later when the full implication of that thought hits him. 

However, when he turns he finds that the man is no longer behind him. Looking around Dick finds him already seated at the breakfast table, looking on impatiently. For one moment he feels a pang of sympathy for Alfred, then gives a small sigh. If Slade wants to be served Dick supposes he can indulge him. He did let Dick crash at his place after all. _Though it's not like Dick hadn't already brought something to the table._

As he heaps eggs onto Slade's plate he tries not to think about how _domestic_ the whole situation feels. 

"Be a dear and fetch me the paper." 

Slade is not helping things. 

_Fetch it yourself_ is right on the tip of his tongue, but when Dick looks up at Slade's face the look that greets him makes him shiver. Instead of arguing he dutifully trots to the door, again trying to ignore Slade's eye admiring the view as he walks away. 

After grabbing the paper off the door mat (Slade's safehouse is far enough out in the country that he doesn't have to worry about anyone spotting his state of undress) he takes a moment to close his eyes, take a deep breath, and take stock of the situation. Slade is treating him like a subservient housewife from the fifties, and Dick is just… letting him. Not only that but he apparently gets off on being bossed around because he's still half hard under the apron. And he really wants to see where Slade is going to take this.

Swallowing down a ball of shame he heads back to the table. 

"Thank you, sweetie," Slade actually _smiles_ at him when he delivers the paper. Dick's turning away to hide how flustered that makes him when he suddenly feels a tug at his arm. 

"Where do you think you're going, doll?" Slade asks him. 

"To make myself a plate?" he responds, then kicks himself for making it a question. He doesn't need to ask Slade's permission to eat. 

"Don't be silly, darling. You can eat later. You're needed elsewhere now." 

"What? I'm the one who cook-" Dick starts to argue, but before he can even get properly riled up he feels Slade's strong grip on him, pulling him down and pushing him under the table. He hates the way that makes his cock twitch, that being manhandled has always been one of his secret kinks (maybe not so secret now if the way Slade acts in the bedroom is any indication). So Dick lets himself go, lets Slade position him as he likes and then waits with bated breath as Slade slides down the zipper of his jeans and pulls out his cock. 

He's still soft, but Dick supposes that's part of the challenge - he must want Dick to work for it. Well this is one challenge Dick is well suited to meet. Tongue out he leans forward to engulf the large cock in front of him, lapping at its underside as he pulls it towards the back of his throat. 

Suddenly he's met with a slap on the side of his head. 

"Stop that." 

Dick tries to pull off to ask _what the fucking hell_ it is that Slade wants, but he's stopped by a firm hand in his hair so he settles for glaring daggers up at his partner. 

"I know you're a cock slut baby, but I'm trying to eat breakfast here. Be a good girl and wait until I'm ready for you." 

Dick glowers because there are so many things wrong with that statement. Slade can't want him to… can't expect him to just kneel here on the floor with Slade's cock in his mouth while the man eats a leisurely breakfast! 

But that is exactly what Slade wants because after giving Dick his orders he turns his attention back to his breakfast and doesn't glance down at him again. And a minute later when he finally removes his hand from Dick's head, Dick doesn't make any move to leave. 

Instead he sits there dutifully, Slade's cock still soft in his mouth, as he tries to focus on anything else to pass the time. There's not much else to focus on though, and it seems that Slade is eating exceptionally slowly today, leisurely flipping through the newspaper between bites. 

Even soft his cock is huge, filling Dick's mouth to the back of his throat. After a while his jaw starts to ache from the effort. He's given Slade blowjobs before, but they usually didn't last long, the man preferring to cum in Dick's ass instead. He tries to ignore the tension in his jaw. 

His nose is buried into Slade's pubic hair, lightly manscaped but mostly in its natural state. He and Slade had showered before bed last night, but after hours spent in the confines of his boxer briefs as he slept a light scent of sweaty musk has returned to his genitals. 

The worst part of this whole thing is that Dick himself has gone from being half-hard under his apron to a full, unapologetically raging erection. And the longer he is forced to wait on Slade the worse it seems to become. He longs to reach for his cock, to do something to release the pressure, but something stops him. Or someone. He has a feeling Slade will not be pleased if he catches Dick touching himself without permission. 

And fuck, when did Dick start needing Slade's permission for anything? 

His ears listen attentively to each clang of the fork against the plate and each rustling flip of a newspaper page, wondering when Slade will finally be finished with his breakfast (and subsequently, Dick's torture). He takes in deep breaths through his nose, trying to calm himself and inhaling more of Slade's musky scent in the process. 

Finally he hears the sound he's been longing for, a fork set down firmly on an empty plate, the soft thump of the newspaper being dropped on the table. 

"You may begin." 

That's it? That's all Dick's going to get after being forced to wait this long? He wants to argue, but he has a mouth full of cock, and somehow he can't find it in himself to do anything but obey. 

He strokes his tongue in firm stripes along the underside of the cock still fully inside his mouth, the trick working well and the member filling quickly. Dick has to pull off then because as difficult as it was to keep Slade's full cock in his mouth while soft, it's near impossible while he's hard. He does his best though, bobbing up and down on the cock eagerly, bringing a hand up to cover the base where he can't quite get his mouth around it. With every bob he feels the tip jabbing at the back of his throat, but he keeps breathing evenly through his nose to avoid choking, even as drool is pooling and dripping out of his mouth. Obscene slurping sounds fill the small breakfast nook as Dick sucks cock like his life depends on it. 

"Good girl, that's my good little slut," Slade praises him from above, "so good for me, aren't you? You love me fucking your mouth pussy." 

Dick moans around the cock in his mouth and below him his cock gives a little squirt of precum. In his mouth he can taste a bit of salt mixed in with Slade's musk, signaling that he really is doing a satisfactory job. 

A sudden pressure against his cock makes Dick let out a startled gasp, a move that also makes him choke as his concentration breaks and Slade's cock hits the back of his throat hard. Rushing to recover he pulls off and slurps around the tip, then lets out a full bodied moan as Slade's foot starts working against his straining erection. The fabric of the apron (which Dick is just now realizing is silk-lined) rubs against his aching hardness teasingly and Dick can't control his hips from humping forward into the offered touch. 

God how he has fallen. If anyone saw him here, under Deathstroke's table, humping his foot and moaning around his cock like a - 

"-slut. Such a good little slut, aren't you? Love my foot, don't you? Come on, you can be good and come for me, can't you?" 

Dick moans around the cock, forcing himself even farther down and sliding it down into the back of his throat so far tears form in his eyes. His hips pick up their pace, humping rapidly into the foot stimulating him as he chases his orgasm. He's so hot… so close. His mouth and hips move in time, giving and taking pleasure all on his own. A spurt of precum hits his tongue, strong salty flavor smearing across his taste buds and that does it: his hips keep pumping as he comes into the apron, rubbing up against Slade until he's milked every last drop from his balls. 

He groans tiredly around Slade's cock, losing stamina now that he's come. Slade finally steps in to help him out now, grabbing Dick's skull and thrusting roughly into his mouth. For his part Dick tries to relax his throat and take it, body too wrung out directly after his own orgasm to do anything else. Slade pushes in deep with each thrust, forcing Dick to fight against his gag reflex. Tears form in his eyes from the effort as he struggles again to breath around Slade's cock. They're freely flowing down his face by the time Slade comes, pulling Dick fully down over his cock forcing his nose to meet Slade's pubic hair again. Dick chokes around the cock as he feels hot spurts of semen shoot down his throat and does his best to swallow. 

When Slade finally pulls out Dick lays his head against a muscled thigh and pants as he tries to catch his breath. He's a mess, tears staining his cheeks, spit covering his chin, and cum smeared between his hips and the apron. Subtly he tries to wipe some of the spit off on Slade's jeans, and thankfully the man either doesn't notice or doesn't care. 

Gentle fingers card through Dick's hair. 

"You did good, babe." 

Dick can't help but to smile slightly at the praise. 

"Go get me another coffee, would you?" 

Dick freezes. After all that Slade is going to just… keep bossing him around? 

He wants to protest. Wants to argue. He's not Slade's servant, this breakfast thing was just… a thing. A short, one time thing. He doesn't have to keep listening to Slade's orders. 

He crawls out from under the table and makes his way over to the coffee machine with Slade's empty mug anyways. As he fills it next to the coffee machine he tries not to analyze what just happened. Of course his traitorous brain has other ideas. 

Dick picks up the filled coffee mug, hands shaking because fuck, he'd just let himself be used as a cocksleeve and humped himself to completion against Slade Wilson's damn _foot_ \- and he'd enjoyed every second of it. 

The mug falls from his shaky grasp. 

It falls in slow motion, then shatters against the floor, coffee splattering everywhere with shards of ceramic. Slade is up in an instant, towering over Dick as he scowls at him. 

"Clean this up. Now." 

Dick shudders at the ferocity of Slade's command and he rushes to obey. He grabs a broom and handful of towels from the closet, then rushes back to the spill. It will be best to clean up the coffee first, he decides, and tiptoes through the broken ceramic before bending over to wipe up the puddle of coffee. 

Suddenly warmth meets the back of his bare thighs and he flushes as he feels Slade press up against him, one hand grabbing firmly onto his hip. The other probes at his exposed hole with a slick finger. 

"Slade?" he asks, because what the hell does Slade think he's doing right now? They both just got off and there's a mess to be cleaned and-

Dick gets a finger pressed all the way inside him as an answer. 

"I didn't tell you to stop cleaning. Look at this mess." 

Dick chokes. How is he supposed to clean when Slade is now sliding a thick finger in and out of him with purpose? He tries to turn around to look at Slade but the hand on his hip presses, urging him to bend over further. So Dick goes, using the cloth in his hand to wipe up the coffee on the floor below him. 

It doesn't take long for Dick to finish mopping up all the coffee within reach. There's still a giant mess _out of reach_ but Dick really can't care because Slade is now working two fingers inside him, crooking them to bully his prostate. Dick moans and tries to rock back against them, but it's a bit difficult when he's still practically folded in half, arms dangling uselessly towards the floor still clutching a dirty rag. 

The fingers soon pull out and he feels Slade line himself up. Dick braces for the stretch he knows is coming as Slade pushes into him. He groans when he feels the head penetrate him and Slade gets the first few inches inside. Slade's cock is _large_ and it still takes some work getting it in each time. Slade seems impatient now though, and quickly begins a rocking motion, pushing a little deeper into Dick's ass with each thrust. Dick just moans through the motions, trying to relax as he feels himself stretched wide. Finally Slade is seated all the way, stretching Dick to his extreme, and he pauses to let Dick adjust. 

_Smack._

Dick gasps as his whole body seizes around Slade's cock as the forceful slap meets his ass cheek. The cock feels even bigger inside him as he tightens around it and it makes him moan even if it is slightly painful. Behind him he thinks he can hear Slade stifle a groan as well. 

"You were naughty, Grayson. You broke my property and made a mess. Now you need to be punished." 

_It was just a cheap mug! And I'm cleaning it up!..._ is what he thinks. 

"Y-yes. I'm sorry. Punish me," is what actually leaves his mouth. 

He's rewarded with another hard smack against his ass. 

They groan in tandem as Dick tightens up again. This seems to bring an end to Slade's patience and he pulls out half way before slamming back in. Dick's breath catches as the large cock slides against his prostate. 

Slade wastes no time setting up a brutal pace, thrusting in and out rapidly, grip tight on Dick's hips. Dick is helpless in his grasp, doing his best to keep his balance as he's still bent over towards the floor. He can do nothing but stand there and take it. 

Another hard smack hits his ass, but Slade's hips don't falter even as Dick tightens up again. His cheek starts to burn as another smack hits him. And another. Despite recently coming Dick's cock is already sticking up hard and wanting between his legs at Slade's ministrations. The assault on his ass both inside and out leaving him a horny, desperate mess. 

It only takes a few more thrusts from Slade and he's on the edge, the near-constant pressure on his prostate bringing him towards orgasm quickly. On the next thrust Slade's cock slams directly into it at the same time as another hard smack greets his ass cheek, and that's Dick's final undoing. His body tenses in Slade's grasp and Dick is shooting his seed into the apron, getting the thing even filthier. 

His body goes limp but Slade just keeps going, holding him up like a rag doll as he keeps thrusting in and out of Dick's now over sensitive hole. When he's not sure he can take anymore, finally Slade finishes. Hot waves of cum fill up Dick's ass as Slade keeps thrusting through his orgasm. 

Dick is still panting heavily but Slade seems completely unaffected by what just transpired as he pulls out. As soon as his cock is free of Dick's ass he finds a finger replacing it to cork his hole. 

"Now now, we can't have you making another mess can we?" 

The finger is removed and suddenly Dick feels a new pressure against his rim. 

"Slade what-" 

The lubed-up item is shoved in roughly, filling Dick's empty passage again and making him gasp. When Slade has the object seated firmly in Dick's bottom he steps away. Dick straightens up, ignoring the small wave of dizziness that hits him, and reaches back to examine the item stretching his hole. 

It's unmistakably a buttplug. 

"Now, you'd better finish cleaning up your mess before I get angry," Slade tells him, gesturing back to the floor. 

Dick picks up the broom and gets to work. 


End file.
